Sep 10


Sweat slips in torrents down the metallic impossibility of its taper, quicksilver running down my hand in numbing consistency. Water, frozen in the presence of an enemy, the ambition of -6 degrees Fahrenheit undulating with laughter- at such ease in puppeteering earth’s most popular element.
Jul 27


Write a poem or narrative, using metaphors to compare and contrast ideas, bringing the reader deeper into your piece(s). 
(Example: like the tears that once wove down my striving neck, gushing around my bare feet, the waterfall stripped me of all feeling but sorrow)

Jul 19
poem challenge: Ode

Ode to a pepper plant

Moist dew envelopes the sweet scent of fresh life, sweeping through my lungs, dripping, seeping in reflective globes down crinkled green sprouts. The droop of creamy white buds teeter from their precarious lifelines, falling to the damp dull jaggedness of earth to give way for their precious successors. Bright veins finger across smooth open teardrops, absorbing the dim warmth of concealed sunlight as I brush my hand across their skin. Scrunched in glistening valleys of spice, holding in burnt tongues and blasts of fragrance, the hidden green of curved, fresh fingers unfold into maturity. They hang in full weight from the striving limbs of stemmed strength and leathery gracefulness that forever reach towards the remembered sun.
Jul 19

Blank slate

The tight, sharp scent of fresh paint weaves familiarity into my lungs. I am lit by a current of warmth and streaming stillness as my eyes reflect the existence of last light. The peeling window is a transparent telescope, bending in burning contrast, curtains of blank, lifeless ice, still rivers down ripped brown bones. It shapes the dusty calm of brightness, shifting patterns and forming minuscule, precise rivers of luminescence to display on my open face. My mind drifts forward in the river of impossibility. I see my own eyes project what can never be elsewhere imagined onto the stark, crisp canvas. Fingers grasp the marked old stem of ideas failed, of visions brought to life, my nimble fingers relentless in rubbing its dried personality, chipping away, silent.
Jun 30


Jun 30


Jun 23


Jun 23

I still need you

Jun 23